Arachnophobia
by jobelle516
Summary: Stoner Brett has feelings. Kurt Hummel and Blaine, and lots of others don't recognize his plight. Rating is 16plus. This piece has trigger issues. Don't enter, seriously, if you're fragile. And if you do, please read the little author notes, like seriously. And if you want to leave a review, please use considerate language. (read, enjoy, review)
1. Arachnophobia part 1 and 2

**RATING:::: This one is M. That means 16 and over. It contains swearing and a lot of hurtful mature stuff.**

**Musical Inspiration: **Sleepwalker, Adam ('f' addicted to him) Lambert, from his Album: For Your Entertainment.

**Ownership: **Yeah, copy right belongs to the others that aren't me, with regards to Glee. But! I have lot's of their stuff and when I get some money, I intend on getting the prized ownership of it all. You've been warned.

**Reviews: I really, really need your reviews on this one, please?** I am building up to releasing my Nightmare story. Not going to be important to you, but for me I need to know I'm doing writing well. So please review? If you're too concerned about being outed that you're even reading my stuff, then shit, exit log the 'f' out and review anonymously. Or send me a blasted pm, I won't reply and I'll delete it straight away if you want. I can be trusted to do what I say. (It might hurt me, a little. But I'd prefer your review than your friendship.)

**Dedication: **To all the kidz in the world whose parent's are as drug addicted as Stoner Brett appears to be. Really sore point, but I love you. And my shilly parents were that shilly. But hey, when you grow up, do a better job than they did. So probably, dedicated to me when I was littler, and my big sister. (Oh, reading this back. I might cry a little now.)

**On **to the story.

**Warning: **Might have trigger issues. Definitely has slash, MxM issues. Has drug references, prostitution, and near to death experience. Probably my most darkest piece to date.

* * *

**~ Arachnophobia ~**

I'd been sitting, reading the necessary words on my screen. Not sure how long I'd been there, maybe an hour or so.

I kept getting this prickly sensation on my right arm, up on my shoulder, then what felt like tapping on the ends of my hair. But I ignored it, too enthralled in this bloody story.

That was my second mistake, the first had been drinking so much on an empty stomach.

But it felt all so good, all the ingredients blended into such a delightful evening.

**~ I'm jealous of Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson ~**

So, diary we agree Kurt Hummel is a fucking arsshole. I mean shit, does he even know how fortunate he is?

I've been sitting alongside him in class for weeks now. I had already been seated, there were other seats that he could have chosen. So why the fuck did he choose to sit next to me?

Any way. Yesterday, he has the fucking audacity to say that I smell homeless.

Um, what the fuck does that smell like?

Mum's always pissed drunk, and when Dad eventually gets home, he screams at me to attend to her. My big sister does all the housework, looks after us kidz and then tries to do her studies too.

My big brother forgot to put the bins out. Dad hit him hard. I cried.

Little sister needed lunch today, I gave her half of mine.

Kurt had an apple at play lunch. God it looked so good. I'm so hungry.

Blaine had a chocolate milk drink. Looked good too, well the drink did. He's such a dip shit. Hair gel, give me a break. Brittany raves on about how wonderful he smells. Raspberry, apparently. I so wanted to knock him over, pinch his milk and shove his head under my arm.

**~ Twilight Moment ~**

I felt like I was Edward looking at Bella.

Diary, I really like that chick that is Tina's assistant. She's really cute.

I've been watching her across the lunch room.

She's clean, she uses her cutlery. All the other's think she's nice too.

I picked my nose in class, and she nearly vomited. What's with that?

Kurt moved away from me too. What else am I supposed to have done? My nose was full of shit.

Kurt says I have hygiene issues. What are they?

Kurt always has fancy handkerchief things, where do I get them from? Might have to pinch some of his. Then what do I do with them?

Blaine uses tissues. Where do you get those from?

I suppose I'll have to ask my big sister.

That chick, she has really pretty pink tissues.

I'm slightly addicted to watching her so much.

So you rthink that she might sit next to me? How do I get her to do that, when bloody Kurt keeps sitting next to me.

**~ Classroom Desks ~**

I don't have any pencils or pens. I keep telling the teacher I've left them at home. Kurt won't share. But I pinched a pencil off him and tore some of his paper. He's so easy to pinch from.

He always has new things. Jeez he wears a lot of cologne. I mean, honestly. I can smell him as soon as he gets in the classroom.

I think I'm turning into Edward. The moment Kurt gets in the room, his scent suffocates me. And the fan isn't even on.

My clothes really do stink bad. I feel so gross right now. Don't know when I took them off last.

I like sleeping in them, and then I can get up in the morning and I'm ready for school. Wish I could have more breakfast though.

Sissy makes good porridge. This morning I found four sultanas in mine. Sometimes I don't find any. I wish I could have Weetbix like she does. But on Saturday, that will be my treat.

I hope Sissy gives me three Weetbix. I'll have to see what Sissy might want me to do, to get that from her.

Dad hit her really hard yesterday. I'm not sure why.

**~ Needing Happiness ~**

Diary, I found someone who can help me be happy.

I just don't like what I have to do before he makes me be happy.

He wants me to blow him. I don't have any money, and so he says that if I do 'that', then he'll give me stuff to help me be happy.

I like being happy. I want to be happy more. I just wish I had some money, 'cause I don't want to blow him. He stinks real bad, down there, and he tastes gross. Like really, really gross.

First time I did it, I wanted to spit all that gunk out. He made me swallow it. He said that's what everyone does.

Then he gave me the stuff. Oh Diary, I was so happy for so, so long. I don't know when I'd been that happy before.

I reckon that girl would make me happy.

The world went really funny. I felt like I was in a cartoon. But Kurt wouldn't transform into one.

I think I like Blaine. But not in the wanker-Kurt way.

Blaine is rich. I wish I were rich like him. I like that I might be able to have what he does, if I were rich like him.

I like Blaine, 'cause he's so fit. He has good food, good drinks, and wears nice clothes. Damn he has a really good body. Mine is kind of grubby.

I wish I could be in the shower with him. Not in the gross-Kurt way. I just want to see how he gets his skin so clean. Mine has funny bits come off, when I rub it.

I like how Blaine and that girl smell.

Not like Kurt. Kurt wears such shilly stuff, and he doesn't smell sweet.

Diarrry, I'm a little rdunk right now. I got some rdink from Mum's bottle. She fell over and I tried some. Feels great.

**~ No Tears and Cookies ~**

After the rdink wore off, I just wanted to cry so much. But the tears won't come.

I'm so angry right now. I'm so hungry right now.

I stand in the kitchen and look around. I look in the cupboards, not much in there. But where the dishes are, they're clean.

I saw a mouse in one of the cupboards. It looked at me, and I swear it spoke to me too.

Kurt has cookies every second day. Wish I could get some. He won't let me near him, outside of class.

Why the hell does he sit next to me? If I stink like a homeless person.

Diarry, I love you. I love my table. I love my pencil, that used to be Kurts. I love everything! I wish I could just keep loving. I want to love that girl.

Diarry, what is going to become of me?

**~ Arachnophobia – part 2 ~**

Diarry, there's a really big fucking spider over there. Shshsh, careful what you say. It might do something scary.

Look at it's legs, diarry. Do you want me to hide you, 'cause I can do that if you want.

There you go. I threw my socks at it. My socks fell over there.

When I went to pick 'em up, I fell over all the crap on my bedroom floor.

Mum wants me to clean up. But I don't really know what she wants me to do. She just keeps saying to clean up.

What the fuck does that mean? What, what am I supposed to do with that?

I asked her what I was supposed to do. She hit me and told me to stop answering her back.

What the fuck does that mean?

She talks to me, I talk to her. Apparently I'm answering back.

Shit, the bloody spider moved. I thought I killed the little sucker.

It's coming toward me. OH SHIT!

Diarrry, I've got sores on my lips. But I feel so good right now.

He's got sores on his dick too. He says that's normal.

I don't have any on mine. But I haven't used mine, so may be that's what will happen when I start using it.

May be that's what she'll give me, if she lets me get close to her.

Apparently, girls have cuties. So these must be cuties.

Dirry, do you thnk that she thinkks I've already got a girlfriend.? 'cause I've got cuties on my lips.

I can't feel my fingers. I can't evn hold the pencil probsbly.

I fell over. I was looking for the spider, and I had my head down low. I was crawling on the floor over all my crap. A..n…ddddddddddd, I couldn't find the little sucker.

And then I fell over. And I looked up, and my back felt so comfy on all the crap. Oh except for the sharp thing pushing into my side. It kind of hurts right now.

I keep coughing, and I'm not even sure how I got to pick up the pencil and ewrite this stuff. But that sharp pain is getting worse…

**~ No Pretty Bandaids ~**

Hey Diarry, how you doing?

Well, I'm feeling much betterer. I got to travel in an ambulance the other day. It's nice and clean in there. It's really bright too.

The nurses gave me a hot water bath. Ooh that felt so nice. Bet you Blaine and Kurt have their own baths. And that pretty girl, too. Ours is grubby. The hostipal's was really clean.

My floor doesn't have crap on it anymore. Sissy tidied up my room. But there's a big red blob on the carpet.

Sissy says it won't change. She says she'll get me a rug.

Well, I've been eating real food and drinking real nicer drinks.

My sores have nearly gone.

But that guy, he keeps winking at me and wants to give me that stuff. I told him I don't have any money, and that I wanted to give him money. I told him I didn't want to blow him any more. He got upset, like really upset. He said I do that better than the others. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be happy about that.

But Kurt and Blaine make each other happy.

I told the guy that I thought that girl thinks I've got a girlfriend. 'cause of all the cuties I had.

He said if I make him happy, he'll try to help me out with getting her to notice me.

Anyway, Diarrhy, I'm feeling like reallly friggin happy rihgt now. He gav me some better stuff than before. Betterer than anything I've ever had.

**~ Thinking Only ~**

_Diarry, I can't move. I can't actually move. And even though I can think this, I'm not sure if I'm writing in you. I'll pretend that I am then._

_The spider is on the roof now, diarry.. and it's falling down to me. Oh no, it must be using its web thng.._

_My heart feels really, heavy and hurts. It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. THAT SPIDER is like really close to my fashe…._

* * *

**Inspired **by drug overdoses, peer group pressures, people taking advantage of others misfortune. **Thanks **to my studies, and germaphobia.

**Spelling **mistakes are actually intentionally left there. **Slightly **sloshed when writing this one. **Fell **into Stoner Brett's mindset really easily then.

**Offended **or anything? Not my full intention. My studies and life are crashing worse than Kurt does into all pieces I read him in.

* * *

**You** are one of 105 people reading this. (28/9/13):** Reviews: I really, really need your reviews on this one, please?** I am building up to releasing my Nightmare story. Not going to be important to you, but for me I need to know I'm doing writing well. So please review? If you're too concerned about being outed that you're even reading my stuff, then shit, exit log the 'f' out and review anonymously. Or send me a blasted pm, I won't reply and I'll delete it straight away if you want. I can be trusted to do what I say. (It might hurt me, a little. But I'd prefer your review than your friendship.)


	2. The worst E

**Rating and Warning: ****This is rated M. 16plus Mature subjects, vulgar language. Trigger subjects. Rape, drug references. You've been warned, be careful then.**

**Ownership: **No ownership of Glee, QAF, Magic Mike. No ownership of drugs of the freaky kind. Lots of music, and healthier things. I own my imagination, it might bore you to keep reading this, but I won't relenquish my right to that.

**This** is a collision of QAF and Glee. And inspiration from Magic Mike. Stoner Brett is not sure …. of a lot.

**Reviews: I really, really would like your reviews on this one, please?** I am building up to releasing my Nightmare story. Not going to be important to you, but for me I need to know I'm doing writing well. So please review? If you're too concerned about being outed that you're even reading my stuff, then shit, exit log the 'f' out and review anonymously. Or send me a blasted pm, I won't reply and I'll delete it straight away if you want. I can be trusted to do what I say. (It might hurt me, a little. But I'd prefer your review than your friendship.)

**It's** the atmosphere that makes the difference. And the coffee shop I am at, makes the world of difference.

**Musical Inspiration: **Burning, Ludovico Einaudi. From the Album: In a Time Lapse.

**Warning: **Trigger issues. MxM issues. Yeah read what I wrote above again. Definitely my darkest piece to date.

**Dedication: **For the Jason Kemps and others lost, hurt, missed and loved by their family and friends. And the homeless kidz, like James 'Hunter' Montgomery from QAF Season 3-5.

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**~ The worst E ~**

"Brett, breathe. Brett my love, breathe baby. Brett!"

He can hear his Grammy, he wants to breathe for her. Blink!

But for Stoner Brett, he can't make sense of what the hell is going on. Blink!

Looking at his feet, standing under the shower, the sides of the bath are getting wider and his feet are getting back to their normal size. Blink!

He'd been standing there, with the water pulverising his head, neck and back, standing there for well over 20minutes. Blink!

He knew the time, that's how long the hot water supply took to start turning cold. Blink!

Looking at his feet, he recognized them. Filthy and overgrown toe nails. Didn't look like they'd been washed ever. Blink!

He looked at the other feet. Whose were they? He wanted them to be Brian's. Brian was safe, secure, reliable. You knew what you were getting with Brian. Blink!

Aggression, an assault, a time to call your own. Even if they'd be Justin's, he'd have felt comfort. Blink!

He didn't like those feet and he didn't like who they belonged to, he lifted his head up. Blink!

He looks in the shaving mirror. The face looking back is scary, wide eyed, frozen with fear. Blink!

No it isn't any of that. It's Brian with his confident wink, and demands of being served. Blink!

Justin's beautiful face, right? No sign of his violin lover this weekend. No one to pretend they're not together with. Blink!

He grabs the soap, deciding to wash and scrub away the last 24hours. Blink!

Thoughts and concerns of Hunter flip in and out. Blink!

He looks at the feet again, whose are they? He turns around, nobody there. And the feet, are gone now. Blink!

He can sit down, the water can rain from above. Ow, fuck and Blink!

He pulls his feet up to himself and starts lathering them. Blink!

Soles down, knees up, ankles against his balls. Blink!

And the scrubbing of a lifetime begins. Ankles, scrubbed till they're red raw. Shins, calves, scrub, scrub harder. Blink!

He stretches his legs and points those toes, reaches to touch them, so far away. And feels hurt muscles in his back, scream Holy murder. Blink!

Leaning back, lying down. The water, so icy cold, makes his stomach hurt and ache. Ice on his chest, will it ever thaw? Will his heart stop beating? Blink!

He grabs the sand soap, and scrubs, and scrubs, and scrubs. Blink!

Hair, face, ears, neck. Blink! Shoulders, left, right. Blink! Left arm, elbow, wrists. The wrists hurt so much, and the hands, fingers. FUCK! Blink!

Right arm, elbow, wrists. FUCK! The sand soap is hurting so much. Blink!

The water has stopped coming, the air is getting colder. Blink!

~ O ~

"Brett, breathe. Brett!"

For her Brett, breathing has taken on a new meaning.

Those feet are back, on either side of his, at the bottom of the shower.

There's his left foot, then the other persons, then his right foot and then the persons other. Blink!

Somehow, he'd managed to get himself out of the shower and sit alongside a bar heater with a towel around him. The towel is wet.

There is warmth in his lap. And a shivver helps him awaken, a little. The sun has gone now, the room is getting darker as the seconds tick by.

The room is black, no light penetrates from anywhere. The air is not moving, but the towel's wet and coldness is what he starts to feel.

He rolls into a ball, puts his head on the foot stool and welcomes the depth of nothingness. Blink!

~ O ~

More heat in his lap, and now farts are mixed with bloody mucous, gunk and runnier shit.

His arse stings with every fart, every excruciating movement is worse than chilli. He can't hold them in, the farts. And when they happen, he screams.

He makes for the toilet. Sits himself down. Folds the toilet paper, and goes to wipe his arse. FUCK! TO THE POWER OF TEN!

~ O ~

The guy who had been winking at him, was going to help him get closer to Dottie Casatori, that same guy he trusted, had had him.

They were at a party, arranged for the under 18's, the under aged. The under no influence of alcohol or drugs. And under no correct supervision.

That guy, had organized all the entertainment. Marionette puppets, comedians, rock bands and dj's. Food and beverages.

That guy, had been trusted by so many.

Happy Birthday Stoner Brett. Happy Birthday Dottie Casatori. Happy UnBirthday you, and you, and you, and me.

~ O ~

Can you touch me here? No, no, No. Can you touch there? No, no, No.

Can you kiss me here, kiss me there? No, no, No.

Are you old enough? Are you young enough? No, no, No.

Well, this ain't too fun is it? No, no, No. Let's fix this up now.

And the dj played infectious, rythmic, trance-inducing, quality Babylon.

The food turned into salted chips, salted nuts. All food that makes you so thirsty, you want more, more, more. Yes, yes, Yes.

Drinks of refreshing became so flavoursome, so many more, more, more. Yes, yes, Yes.

And the dancers, delighted all. And hands upon hands, upon bodies. Grabbing here, there, everywhere. Touch me, touch you, enjoy, enjoy.

Kiss me, kiss you, Kiss me more.

And he did, and she did, and they did. And no notice of swapping saliva, swapping little tablets from one tongue to another.

Tongues wrapped around each other. Tongues guiding, pushing, pulling. Kiss you hard, kiss you soft, kiss you better.

~ O ~

Dance, dance, Dance. Twirl around, grind your things, bump your hips. Eat, drink, be merry. Be very merry.

Enticing, intoxicating. Here have some more.

And minutes and hours exist no more. Time is now, time is forever, noW!

Hold me, hold you. Dance, kiss and cuddle. Now come with me.

Come down this long dark blue tunnel. See how the others are enjoying themselves. You want to have fun too, you want to enjoy too?

Here, lets go in here. Pull you to me, push you to the wall, turn around. Here I am, here you are, do as you're told.

Resist me, I don't think you want to do that...

~ O ~

He'd seen Hunter, Hunter had seen him. Hunter's eyes were weird, freaked out too.

Blink! Blink! Blink!

The shower was hot again, scalding him clean.

Lathered soap was drowning him, a small ability to breathe.

Scrubbing until he nearly bleeds. He can't bleed though, he can't leak.

Brushing his teeth, tongue, walls of his mouth. The brush needs to go down the throat some more, Gag, gag, Gag!

Toothpaste, squeeze out, swallow. Vomit it all uP!

~ O ~

Open computer, go online, log in.

Subscriptions to quality drug pages. Delete.

Liked Face book pages to the best drug links. Unlike.

Friends to so many, who waste with the wasted and get bent baby. Unfriend.

Hot Mail, Google Mail, E-Mails here and here, your order for quality shit is in. Delete.

His hand waivers over the keyboard, type, type, type/delete some more. Space bar, back space, enter.

Suspend here, suspend there. Pull back, whoa!

~ O ~

Dearest Brett, I miss you. Don't you miss me?

But hey, have another risk taking episode. I beg you not to. I love you, I need you so.

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**If you aren't familiar with my work, if you didn't see, if you don't really know Glee, QAF or Magic Mike: **Stoner Brett was ...where he was, but he was experiencing it for real. And this piece has exhausted me.

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**5/10/13 5:59am. James 'Hunter' Montgomery is from QAF Season 3-5. By the way this isn't a crossover.**

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**Anonymous reviews: I thank you.**


	3. Hurting Mum

**RATING:::: This one is M. That means 16 and over. It contains a lot of hurtful mature stuff.**

**Musical Inspiration: **Season 4 music.

**Ownership: **Yeah, copy right belongs to the others that aren't me, with regards to Glee. But! My imagination is mine to own. {enjoy the story, just don't copy and cheat.}

**Dedication: **To all the kidz in the world whose parent's are addicted to something.

**Warning: **Might have trigger issues.

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**~ Hurting Mum ~**

I'm not really sure, but I don't thnk I'm losing touch with reality.

No, I'm just losing my Mum, to Glee.

She's like totally obsessed with the damn show. She has all the seasons on dvd, she has just about all the music that was released on cd. She has a planner, pens and pencils and crayons and textas and colour in books and soup!

But I thought we were all out of soup. She called me Blainey days and said for me not to count on her, 'cause she's all out of soup. What!? When I checked the cupboards, there was no food in them.

The itches under my woollen beanie are sooo annoying. _Scratch, scratch_. I looked at my fingers, and there were little bugs under my finger nails. Where'd they come from? I don't nibble my nails any more, they taste horrible.

Blaine's Mum brings him to school. I love watching them. She's really pretty, he's nice too. But not in the KurtLovesBlaineAndBlaineIsNice way. He's just so clean.

I followed them the other day. It was a long walk home, but I found where the Anderson's live. I'm going to be his friend, and I'm going to see how I can get that clean too.

I looked in their windows, when they went out. Their kitchen is so clean. There were no dishes on the benches or tables. There was no rubbish bags on the floors either. And there was a really pretty vase on the table, with yellow and pink flowers in it. There are bushes all over the Anderson's back yard, that must be where they get them from.

~ 0 ~

I hurt Mum the other day. But I kind of didn't mean it. It just annoys me that she doesn't do the dishes, or the cooking or the things like Blaine's Mum does.

That's kind of how Blaine gets to be so clean and kinda like, happy. His Mum cooks and cleans and does things inside and outside their house. She does things, that my Mum doesn't.

My Mum just sits and watches the telly, Glee. Or she sleeps on the couch and has the music playing. Or goes on the internet and plays with Glee things there. Goooooo shit, I am so sick of it all.

I came in when the guy Noah was talking with Finn. Finn had missed a test, and Noah was bagging him out. What Noah said made me think. He said that how others had crossed the street to avoid him, and some had called him a loser and that he wouldn't be anything when he grew up.

I feel like that too. That the teachers and Mum and Dad and Sissy, say I'm not gonna do well. I want to do well.

And then I did it. I hurt Mum. I grabbed her dvds and hid them. I grabbed her music cds and hid them. I wanted to break 'em, scribble 'em, scratch 'em up. But they look happy. And I want to be happy.

I've hid 'em in the attic, up the back next to the weird doll that looks like Blaine. I don't know where that doll came from. It's really furry too. It's really weird. It's got two words written on the bottom of its feet. One has Blainey on it, the other has Bear on it. But it doesn't look like a bear to me. It looks like a furry doll. Yuk!

Mums been looking for her things. She's messed the house up, looking for them. She yelled at me. I just yelled back. I told her I wish she'd never come across Glee. And then 'cause I yelled back, she stopped ranting on, she stopped moving. She fell on her knees in the kitchen, and looked up at me and asked what did I say?

I threw my milk in the sink, I broke the damn cup. I really liked that cup. And I told her I wish she'd never come across Glee, 'cause she doesn't do what Blaine's Mum does. She asked me what does Blaine's Mum do? I said Blaine's Mum looks after him, and doesn't watch telly all the time. Then I ran to my room, and cried and cried. I fell asleep crying.

Mum came in and sat on my bed. She woke me up and wiped my tears. And then she said the stupidist thing.

She said we're all going to miss Finn.

God damn it! She thinks I'm crying over a bloody tv show!

~ 0 ~

I'm going to get some of the flowers, and give 'em to Mum. Blaine does that. He gives his Mum things. She smiles real pretty.

Maybe if Mum smiles too, she might look after me like Blaine's Mum looks after him.

* * *

**Little Author notes, from a cute little author: Not as vicious a chapter, but just as meaningful.**

**You must pay the price, please review?**


	4. Silver Boxes

**RATING AND WARNING: This one is M. That means 16 and over. It contains a lot of love and mature stuff. But has trigger issues.**

**Musical Inspiration: **Alive, Empire of the Sun. From the album Ice on the Dune.

**Ownership: **Yeah, copy right belongs to the others that aren't me, with regards to Glee. But! My imagination is mine to own.

**Dedication: **To you who thinks you're all alone, in any situation. {enjoy the story, copy the actions and please review}

* * *

**~ Silver Boxes ~**

Brett and Dottie are spending time with his Grammy.

Grammy: "No you don't get to yell at me about my home. You're not here enough, to get that privilege."

Brett: "But Grammy the house is overcrowded with things. It's dangerous."

Grammy: "It might be, but it's mine. It's my home, my stuff."

Dottie: "Brett leave Grammy be. "

Brett: "But you said I had to take control."

Dottie: "Yes, but leave her, just for now, we'll tackle this some other way." She rubs his shoulder for reassurance. "She's much too upset, and now that I've met her I understand a little more."

Dottie adjusts her braces, very quickly and with the clean hand she has left.

Dottie: "Grammy, it's been lovely to meet you. Can we come another time?"

Grammy: "Brett, I like your new girl. You can bring her with you next time. Here Dottie, have this little box. It's full of love."

And Grammy gives Dottie a silver box, wrapped with a silver ribbon and bow on top. The box is dusted with so much dust, that Dottie doesn't dare let it move much. She smiles at Grammy, gives her a peck on her cheek.

Dottie: "Thank you Grammy. What's inside?"

Grammy: "Love, it's full of love. No, no, don't open it. One day when I've gone to Heaven, that's when you open it. Unless you've given it away. And you tell that person the same thing I'm telling you. It's full of love and don't open until I'm gone, or you give it away."

Dottie: "Okay, thank you. Brett, will we go now?"

Brett: "I love you Grammy. I'll see you later."

She frowns at Brett, but lets him kiss her cheek. He hugs her tight. She hugs him too. She's much too frail to hug really tight. But when she pinches his cheeks, she leaves finger nail marks. Grabs his ears and pulls him down to her. Puts a single, wet, sloppy kiss on his forehead just above his nose. It's a kiss that should have been just a moment, but as she starts to cry he stays there.

Relaxing into an artist's pose, he waits for her release, knowing that the physical conversation says more about their relationship than just making banana sandwiches for Saturday lunch or date scones for Sunday lunch.

He'll always remember fondly, of squashed jam sandwiches for school lunch. Sometimes if he were lucky, they would have meat paste, still squashed. Peanut butter and sultanas, squashed. Apple and peanut butter, mushed.

They wave goodbye to her, as they walked down the pavement to the front fence. The grind of the gate, white painted wrought iron, would be a sound to capture on his personal recorder.

She closes her front wire door, as they turn onto the street. She turns and surveys the mess that has been her comfort for too many lonely years. He's right, it's dangerous. Dangerous to leave a mess for others to clean and tidy, when she goes to Heaven.

She sits and wonders how to spend the next two weeks, while Brett and Dottie are on a little holiday. She plans to call her imaginary friends, as Brett calls them.

**~ Cardboard Boxes ~**

In the morning she rings for big moving boxes to be delivered. They assemble them for her, and make her a drink and some lunch. They clean up the front yard, tidy up the weeds and brush the webs away from the building. Manicure the nature strip, broom and wash the pavement.

They paint the side wooden fences and do the same out the back yard. They erect a pergola, placing new rose bushes that climb up the sides and over the top. It all looks like it grew there, even the gnomes have been watching for years.

The littler spiders inside and out run for safety. The mice in the ceiling pray to be left alone. Mother possum and her babies watch as mother huntsman and her spiderlings slide flatly into old hidey holes. They'll all be okay, Grammy won't allow pesticides.

Grammy finishes what she started two weeks ago. She pours herself a cup of tea and puts it on the side table, by her chair. She opens a packet of honey comb, takes out two pieces and closes the packet tight.

She checks the stove is off, the taps are off, back lights are off and the back door locked. As she walks through the little house that God let her have, she double observes clean and tidy. Windows sashes where they should be, vacuumed floors and a posy of flowers, different for each room. The bathroom has plastic daffodils, the kitchen window rosemary bunches drying upside down. Brett's bedroom has lavender sprays with baby's breath on his bed. And she places his teddy and pulls up the blankie to cover his little arms.

She wipes her tears, she's going to miss him so much. She knows how sad he'll be. But he'll get over it, and Dottie will make a good wife for him. A good friend, a good lover. They won't have babies, even though they'd be good parents. It isn't in God's plan for her to be a Mum.

Grammy makes sure all the interior doors are open. She sits at her front window, watching all the afternoon traffic drive home. A little girl skips after her puppy, he's pulling at his leash to go faster.

Grammy turns the telly on, but not too loud. Eddie is coming on, and she love's her Eddie. They play with him, he winks at the contestants and then at Grammy down the tv lines.

She can't watch him anymore, turning to put the heater in the off position.

Sigh!

**~ Heaven has another Angel ~**

The service had been beautiful, the sun had appeared at all the right moments. Every one in the Church had sung with love in their hearts for Grammy.

The food was delicious, the drinks delightful. The Church Minister's voice was poetry and he would certainly miss his Sunday lover. Not that he could reveal any of that, it was their secret she took to Heaven and when his time came, he would too.

In the little house that Dottie and Brett inherited, they took down photos of the family and of Grammy. They put up bookshelves and artwork. He put in a new open fireplace and she admired the old style wall paper of salt and pepper shakers, fruit baskets, loaves of bread and olde style crockery.

He comes to the table for dinner and she dishes up an olde family recipe. For dessert they enjoy apple pie and cream, do the dishes and sit back down for hot cocoa and raisin bread with thick butter.

They look at the silver box in the centre. He holds her right hand, she holds his right one too. They say a prayer of thank you to God, kiss and open the little delicate silver box.

Dottie hadn't had time to give it away. Two weeks was only enough time to take home, put down, forget, remember and blow the dust off. A little contemplating to throw it out, but then Grammy went to Heaven.

And inside Grammy was right, it was full of love. Full of opportunity, hope and richness. Full of love for all good things that come to those that wait.

This little box had been given to Grammy by one of her many lovers. A rich olde man who looked after Grammy when her husband went to Heaven. A rich olde man who the Church Minister said beautiful poetry prayers, at his wake.

The Church Minister wanted to throw the box away. It was covered in dust and was so light, it was surely empty.

Twelve one hundred dollar notes are folded tight with a note.

"_I opened this, and I'm a little sorry. Curiosity got the better of me. Then I realized that this is too important to leave in here. Please take this note to the bank mentioned. There you will find a safety deposit box. In that box is sufficient money that you should be fortunate enough to clear your debts and continue on with a good life. Enjoy what you have, and where you can, share generosity to those less fortunate than you."_

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**Little author notes from a cute little author: **I often leave a little money here and there in the street. I put it where it might get found, if someone were sitting just there. I do it when I know no-one is looking. I leave just a little, that I can spare. And pray for the person who finds it. Maybe someone down on their luck, maybe someone so rich that they'll pass on something bigger.


	5. Star Stuck

**Ownership: **Yeah, copy right belongs to the others that aren't me, with regards to Glee and Dalton by CP Coulter. But! My imagination is mine to own.

**Inspiration: **Playing with Stoner Brett is a favourite toy of mine. Read, enjoy, review.

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**~ Stoner Brett is Star Stuck ~**

I've been looking at this screen for about an hour. They said that it would help me. But I remember hearing the teacher say that if you wrote about your feelings and uploaded it, that others reviewing would hurt a lot. Even if you don't let on that they're your feelings.

Flaming reviews hurt. And the nice reviews don't understand my pain. And those that don't review, piss me off. But I probably should do this anyhow.

Some how I feel I'm stuck in many worlds. The world that is outside the computer, outside my walls. And the world inside my brain connected with the world inside my computer.

I'm no-one special. Well that's wrong, Grammy thought I was special. Dottie says I'm special. But the tv people are using me. They treat me as stupid, giving me dumb lines to exaggerate.

They had me as Tina's King of the Prom, but turned that ep about Tina. I got forgotten again, except the ridicule. That always hurts, alot.

So, computer diary. Just to recap, Grammy's gone to Heaven!

I've been looking at this screen for about an hour. They said that it would help me. So maybe I should do this anyhow.

Some how I feel I'm stuck in many worlds. The world that is outside the computer, outside my walls. And the world inside my brain connected with the world inside my computer.

I'm no-one special. Well that's wrong, Grammy thought I was special. Dottie says I am special.

Grammy gave us some money, I used mine to get more educated. I got a job as an exam marker. I also got a non-paying job of editing other people's stories on line. And…

I've been looking at this screen for about an hour. Some how I feel I'm stuck …..I NEED TO SHAKE MYSELF AWAKE!

**~ Really? Are you sure… ~**

COMPUTER DIARY, I've been marking the exam of 'Her whose name I just can't say'. Unbelievable hey? She's like mega famous. We aren't supposed to know whose work we mark. But there were all these doodles of story lines and excerpts. Hey handwriting is really beautiful.

Her light delicate application on the paper is awesome. I know it's light and delicate because I held the paper up to the light. The pressure on the paper was just slightly visible. Her rounding of certain letters makes me think she looks like an Angel when she writes. And the ink she used, had little sparkles in it.

And at the end of the exam paper, she wrote the single word of Glee. Can you imagine that? The questions of the exam she didn't answer that well, but the rest of her words…?

Oh computer diary, I'm in love with her. I'm, umm? Dottie said the word to use is infatuated.

I'm no-one special. But now I feel like I've bumped shoulders with a celebrity. But she'll never know about me. Unless I contact her and let her know. But I might lose my job, if I do that.

The other week, Dottie and I were at the airport and 'He whose name I just can't say' was there. With his lovely wife. Dottie saw the wife first and their three blonde haired children. They're so beautiful in real life. He looked worried. Of course you would be if you were a celebrity and everyone was watching you and commenting.

Then we get on the airplane and get seated. Well I got seated. Dottie was at the other end of the plane. I looked back down to her, and He was putting bags in the compartment above. And Dottie had to squeeze past him. The guy behind Dottie, bumped into her and that made Dottie bump into Him. He turned around to growl, saw Dottie and asked if she were alright.

Wow! So Dottie has had her brush with a celeb.

And now I don't know what to do. If I contact her, what would I say? I'm no one significant. She wrote down that whoever was marking her work, to please look at her site, read and review.

But how dorky if I do that.

In the meantime, my extra studies have me needing to study and comment on that other big book, Dalton by CP Coulter. It's really good. I read it ages ago, but now that I have to do it as part of my studies…. Oh man, the pressure.

**~ Ahuh ~**

So, computer diary, I did it.

I went online, checked her stories out. And …..

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**Little author notes from a cute little author: **Hope you don't lose your job. But I hope you'd at least review. You don't have to log on or in or join up. Just write in the box provided and make up a name of any sorts. If you don't put in a name, the computer will call you guest.

And I'll just call out to you: THANKS!


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